


Stories of the Second Self: At All Cost

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [12]
Category: Police - Fandom, Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: Officer Cole Chaney was struggling to keep his and his daughter's secret under wraps, but one day after he came home from the department he discovered his daughter missing and ransom note demanding money.
Series: Alter Idem [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: At All Cost

After a particularly bad night of street patrol, I get home and fetch the mail. There’s an envelope marked "Urgent" with my name on it, 'Cole Chaney.' No return address. Opening it I read a note that says:

'I have your daughter if you want to see her alive again.  
You will pay her ransom in the sum of $500,000 in small  
unmarked bills. Do not call the police or it will be the last  
you will see her alive. You then will wait for further  
instructions by phone. I will tell you where to drop off  
the money.'   
The phone rings, so I pick it up, "Hello."

"Where's the money?" the voice answers.

"It's taken me a bit, and I have a second mortgage on the house to get the $500,000 you want," I answer, letting the anxiety come through my voice.

"Good! Now here's what you're going to do," the voice tells me, "You're going down Highland Avenue until you get to Ringgold Street then to Filson Park. You'll know which entrance to use, because we'll have someone there. Get going. Wouldn't want anything to happen to daddy's little girl, here."

"I'm on my way," I say, "But can I speak to my daughter?"

"When we have the money," the voice says, and then the line goes dead.

"Alright," I nod, "Let's do this."

I get in the car, and start down to the road they want. Someone leaning against the Filson Park sign is the clue I need to know that's where they want me. The guy pretends to be bored, but I can tell he's got his eye on me. He clearly, recognizes my car.

There are a couple other people posted along the way, and they more specifically point somewhere, which I know is meant for me. I end up in the kids' play area, which at this time of year is devoid of activity, especially with all the craziness going around the city.

Parking my car, I get out with the cardboard box. I could've gone the movies route of a suitcase, but I doubt hoods would think that useful for avoiding cops after the trade. Filled with paper, it's weighty, so one of the guys nods on seeing me heft it up and walk over.

"That's close enough," someone calls out.

I see him step out with my fourteen year old daughter. "You okay, honey?"

"She's fine," the man declares with irritation, "That my money?"

"It is," I say, "It's everything I could get to ensure her safety."

"Alright, forward until I say stop," he orders.

I approach to within about twenty yards. He and the other guy angle me up from different directions, but the rest of his crew are still at their posted positions, and beyond the line of sight of the play area.

"Get the box," the ringleader tells his man.

"Baby, do you remember what I taught?" I ask.

"Yeah Dad," she calls back, incurring a yank from the hostage taker.

"Shut up!" he gnashes at her.

I nod to her.

From where I stand, I'm guessing the man has a handgun to her lower back. She steps sideways, causing him to pull the trigger in reaction, but he's taken off guard by the audacious move. The round grazes her side, causing my heart to stop a beat, but she reaches back for his wrist.

Her skin tone is already changing and other features emerge, while she wickedly twists his hand. I can hear the wrist bones snapping from here. The second guy rushes, and so I kick off my untied shoes and bolt after him. Fur pushes from my skin just about when my daughter is doing the same.

She pins the ringleader down to finish the change, and then bites down hard around his throat. Violent head tosses, lead to a splash of blood and short-lived gurgling.

I grab the second guy, and shove him down before he realizes that he's in about as severe trouble as his friend. However, our point is made. Turning the second man over, he screams realizing it's not hands holding him but paws.

Over the next minute or so, I shift back. My shirt is stretched in places, but doesn't appear to have ripped. My socks aren't so lucky, but it's a small price to pay. In fact, it's cheaper than the shredded paper I had loaded up the box with.

"I'm sorry man!" he pleads, "Don't kill me!"

It takes a breath to bring my growl back to a more normal voice, before seething, "Now you know who you're fucking with!"

"Tell your friends what happened here and I'll track your scent until I find you again," I warn, my voice slipping back to my primal side, "Now when I get up you're going to beat your feet the other way, and not back to the rest of your pals! GO!"

He tears away before he's even gotten off his ass, and flees for his life. My daughter rushes over to me, still shaking by the ordeal and that she's had to kill someone for the first time. "Daddy! You came for me!"

"No one's ever gonna hurt you," I sooth and embrace her. "You did good, baby. That's my girl."


End file.
